


Grieving

by shag_me_senseless_watson



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Death, Complete, Grieving Sherlock, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7046254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shag_me_senseless_watson/pseuds/shag_me_senseless_watson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moriarty promised Sherlock, and now that promise has been broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grieving

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Sherlock, or the characters, or the original idea behind this story. That lies with whoever made the picture this is based off of.

It was on Saturday, May 28th, when Sherlock’s life changed forever. He had been out to get milk, since it was his turn, when Moriarty decided to pay John a visit during his absence. Moriarty and he, they had made an agreement that he would leave John alone; but it seems he had broken it.

It was just after 12:00 P.M. when Sherlock returned home from his tedious task. He opened the door to the flat, bounded up the stairs, and stopped mid-step into the living room. There, right in front of him, lie the body of one John Hamish Watson. From what Sherlock could see, he had been shot in the heart, but he could not tell if he was breathing or not due to his now foggy vision.

Sherlock dropped the jug of milk onto the floor and steadily made his way over to John. Kneeling, he reached out a hand and placed it upon the man’s neck and just about stopped breathing. _Dead._

Sherlock’s breathing now came too quickly, his hands began to shake, tears cloud his vision. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his mobile and began to call Mycroft.

* * *

 

“Since when do you call instead of texting?”

“He promised me he’d never touch him. He said it was our game, he agreed to leave him alone. He, h-he said he wouldn’t . . .”

Mycroft was immediately alert. “Sherlock, what happened?”

“He said he would NEVER . . . I’m such an idiot. How could . . .” Sherlock trailed off, his free hand clutching at his chest as his lungs began to burn due to his heavy breathing.

“Who are you talking about? Sherlock, what has happened?” Although he tried to remain calm, Mycroft could feel his heart beating fast within his chest with worry.

“He, he’s . . . gone. John’s dead, I can’t, oh god . . .”

“Oh dear god. Sherlock listen, stay right where you are, I’m coming. Sherlock, breathe for me. I need you to stay calm and collected and -” the line went dead. Mycroft called Lestrade and told him what was going on. Lestrade agreed to pick him up seeing as he never drove himself, and together the two of them made their way to 221B Baker Street, where they were met with the sight of Sherlock hovering over John’s body.

Mycroft approached Sherlock carefully while Lestrade approached John. Mycroft, though he rarely showed sentiment, wrapped his arms around his little brother and held him tight against his chest as he watched the detective inspector call for emergency assistance.

Sherlock was all but weeping in Mycroft’s arms, not looking anywhere else but at John. John, his best friend, the man he was hoping to propose to later that weekend, is dead.

“Is t-this what it felt like for h-him?” Sherlock mused to himself. “I - I can’t M-Mycroft, I can’t do this . . .”

Mycroft was at a loss of what to do in order to calm his brother down. He had never experienced this for himself. He had never lost someone so close to him. This is why he distances himself from sentiment and people in general.

“Sherlock, I am here for you. I know you are upset, and mourning, and at a loss, and I am sorry for you. Truly, I am. But we need to move his body, and we need to get you sorted out. No doubt this will take many therapy sessions, which I am more than willing to pay for. But for right now, we need to move him, and you need to get out of this flat. You’re coming to live with me for a while. I will look after you, as I doubt that you yourself will. Sherlock, please know that you are not alone in this.”

All Sherlock did was hold on tight to Mycroft. Whether he had acknowledged his words or not, it didn’t matter; it was a promise, he knew, and he trusted Mycroft enough to know that even he doesn’t break is promises. He was right, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you if you read it! I do so very much love feedback. <3


End file.
